


1001 Ways Sherlock and John Got It On

by BeautyandtheConsultingDetective



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Time, Hand Jobs, M/M, Virgin Sherlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 09:50:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5452337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeautyandtheConsultingDetective/pseuds/BeautyandtheConsultingDetective
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This will be multiple stories of John and Sherlock getting it on in multiple different ways! (cause I like writing about them having sex lol) The stories might be related and might not be, I will mention it if they are and if they aren't. Random updates.<br/>Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1001 Ways Sherlock and John Got It On

**Author's Note:**

> All errors are mine! Apologies.

Sherlock was panting, hard and fast, sweat dripping from his hair to wet his face and the pillow underneath it. His large hands fisted the covers atop his bed tight enough that threatening little ripping sounds can be heard as the fabric protested the harsh treatment. Sherlock wasn't paying attention, his senses were dulled and his mind far away, focused on one thing and one thing only.

John.

Sherlock thought about John, his face, his body, his voice. He thought about how small John was. He thought about how easy it would be to cover John's body with his own. He thought about how tiny the other man's body was in comparison with Sherlock's own hands and thought about gripping John with them, his waist, his shoulders, his thighs, anything. He thought about holding John down and having his way with him. It would be so easy.

Sherlock screwed his eyes shut tightly as he rocked his hips harder against the mattress, his damp, naked skin catching on the silken fabric underneath him. His mouth dropped open at the feeling of his cock rubbing hard and fast against the surface of his bed, the delicious friction it provided. He lifted his upper body with his arms, hands still tightly fisted in the sheets, and rocked his hips harder into the mattress, humping the bed so hard that it was inching forward with every thrust of his hips.

Sherlock imagined John was underneath him and that they were frotting against each other, slow and luxurious at first but slowly picking up in speed as time wore on. He imagined how hot John's skin would be pressed against his, how soft and smooth and slightly damp with perspiration as they moved against each other. Sherlock imagined the feeling of gripping John's waist with his hands to hold him still as he snapped his hips forwards hard. He imagined the way John's body would move up and down with each of his thrusts, imagined himself having to brace one hand on the headboard to stop John's head from colliding into it.

Sherlock fantasized about John's lovely face, eyes dark with desire and lips swollen and red from kissing, face slick with sweat and flushed dark with blood. He thought of the expression John would wear as he stared up at Sherlock, thought of John watching him with lust in his eyes and sin in his gaze. He imagined the feeling of John's tiny hands gripping his shoulders, his neck, his waist, his thighs, his nails digging into the skin of his back. And Sherlock thought of the sounds John would make as they frotted, as they kissed and touched and breathed together, the groans and gasps and moans John would make, the way he would no doubt breathe Sherlock's name like a prayer when the pleasure became too much, the way he would gasp it loudly when he finally climaxed.

Sherlock closed his eyes and bit his bottom lip and clenched his hands and dig his knees into the mattress and humped the bed harder and harder and harder as his thoughts grew wilder and wilder and wilder while concentrating on not letting any of the loud noises he wanted to make escape his mouth as his climax grew closer and closer and closer. The bed was making a racket as he moved against it like a man possessed but he couldn't hear anything beyond his harsh breathing and the sounds John made in his head as they made love. They echoed in his ears and tormented him with how much he wanted to be having sex with John instead of his useless mattress.

He was just about to tip over the edge when a knock came on his bedroom door, three quick raps. Sherlock stilled immediately, panting. He knew who it was. Of course he did, how couldn't he? And of course it was him, it just had to be.

"Sherlock?" John's voice floated in through the door, sounding annoyed and a bit worried. "What are you doing in there, for God's sake, it's 3 in the morning. It sounds like you're murdering someone."

Sherlock screwed his eyes shut tight at the soft sound of John's voice, his back still in a dramatic curving dip as he held his upper body aloft with his arms, hands pressed against the bed and legs spread wide. Sherlock bowed his head forwards and let it hang in between his straining arms, trying to slow his breathing rate. He ached with want, his whole body and soul thrumming with it. He felt incredibly hot, like he could evaporate the sweat right off of his skin upon contact, the pale length now a faint red from his racing blood. He wanted, and his half delirious mind decided to take, damn the consequences.

He sat up and grabbed one of his pillows before moving to face the still closed door in a kneeling position. He placed the large pillow underneath and in between his legs, pressing his hips down and into it, letting out a quiet gasp at the friction it provided to the skin of his cock. Sherlock gripped the pillow with both hands and thrust into it once, twice, all the while staring at the door with determination. He didn't allow himself to second guess, didn't allow himself to even think, he just opened his mouth and said, "Come in."

John hesitated outside the door. Sherlock's voice sounded off, far deeper than usual and extremely husky. But he pushed his hesitance aside and opened the door.

What he saw inside the dark room made his mouth go dry and caused his stomach to feel like it had just bottomed out and fall straight to the floor.

Sherlock watched as John's face transformed as he took in Sherlock's besmirched state. He watched as John's handsome face changed from annoyance to confusion to disbelief to shock and finally incredulity. He watched as John's mouth dropped open and his face pale before reddening slightly. He watched as something in John's face darken, as something akin to desire started to form in his features. Sherlock's heart started racing faster at the sight even as he gripped the pillow so tight it threatened to tear right through to the feathers inside, even as he snapped his hips as erotically as he could manage into the softness below him. He had never done anything even remotely close to what he was currently attempting to do, which is seduce John right into his bed, right into his arms. Sherlock stared at the doctor, begging him with his eyes to give him permission to touch him, to kiss him and do unspeakable things to him. He bit his full bottom lip and sucked it into his mouth, watching the man currently frozen at his doorway with intent and trepidation.

John watched as Sherlock humped that pillow shamelessly, sweat dripping from his hair and air blowing out of his nose and mouth quick and hard. The bedroom was dark save for a bedside lamp left on, casting a slightly orange glow in the room that highlighted Sherlock's reddened, glistening skin. He was completely naked, every single long length of him bare and laid out for John to see except for the most crucial parts, his crotch covered by the pillow he was currently having sex with and his arse that was facing the other side of the room. Sherlock looked like the epitome of sin, like a gorgeous whore trying to seduce a hesitant client, like a rich man's beautiful plaything that he fucks daily after a hard day at work, always on his hands and knees because he needed to be exhibited.

This was a blatant invitation, John knew it and Sherlock knew it and they both knew that the other knew it. That knowledge coupled with Sherlock's pleading face staring up at John and the fact that John had wanted this for quite some time now decided for the doctor his next move.

He closed the door shut and locked it, all the while not taking his eyes off of Sherlock, who looked beyond relieved and thrumming with anticipation. He had stilled on the bed and had sat up, clutching the pillow to his front as he stared up at John with big, bright eyes. A moment ago, he had looked like an expensive male prostitute seducing somebody. Now he resembled an eager but inexperienced virgin as he kneaded the pillow in  between his hands. John knew the latter was probably accurate, but he also knew that mentioning it wouldn't please Sherlock in the slightest, so he refrained.

John sat cross-legged on the bed facing the detective and watched as Sherlock fidgeted slightly in front of him. Wordlessly, he reached out and pulled the pillow out of Sherlock's hands and tossed it on the floor. Sherlock let out a tiny gasp as he was exposed to John's hungry gaze but didn't protest, his large grey eyes wide and beautifully dark with lust as he stared at the object of his desire.

John cupped the back of Sherlock's neck and tugged him forward gently, causing him to kneel slightly as their lips met. John didn't bother moving an inch but instead adjusted Sherlock to his liking until the taller man was sat in his lap with his long legs on either side of John's body, feet nearly hanging off the end of the bed. John kissed Sherlock and tasted his mouth and tongue until Sherlock was moaning at an alarming volume, moving his hips in little circles against John's stomach. The doctor moved the hand that was pressed against Sherlock's back and gripped his waist with it, stilling his movements.

With the hand gripping the back of Sherlock's neck, he fisted the other man's curls and pulled his face away, their lips parting with a soft wet noise that made Sherlock's toes curl. Sherlock panted and looked at John in confusion, trying to move his hips again. His cock had been rock hard for at least half an hour now and it was starting to hurt a bit.

John gripped his waist tighter. "No, Sherlock." He murmured sternly. Sherlock stilled, a bolt of lust surging through him suddenly at John's firm tone of voice and serious face. _Interesting_ , he thought amidst all the sexual haze his mind was in. _Further experimentation required_.

Supporting Sherlock's body with his hands, John gently lowered the other man until he was lying on the bed, legs spread almost obscenely wide. John hovered on top of him, kneeling in between his legs and hands braced on the bed in a way that caged Sherlock in. Sherlock's grip on John's shoulders tightened in anticipation.

"I want you," John whispered softly into Sherlock's ear. "To lay there and not move. If you do, even a little bit, I will stop." He kissed Sherlock's earlobe and moved, dragging his lips down, from his ear to his jaw to his chin.

Sherlock was confused but didn't dare ask, wondering whether asking counted as his lips moving, therefore counted as him moving. The last thing he wanted was for John to stop.

John planted a gentle kiss on Sherlock's full lips and started pulling away, but hesitated, then kissed Sherlock again, a bit longer this time. Then he tried to move away again, but stopped and growled and plunged down and kissed the detective long and hard and deep until Sherlock was making the most unholy noises, even with John's tongue stuffed in his mouth, thoroughly tasting him. John kissed, Sherlock noted dazedly, like he wanted to eat Sherlock because Sherlock is his favourite food. It was a silly thing to think but the thought popped up in his head anyway, making him giggle slightly into John's mouth.

John pulled away and stared questioningly down at the other man, who took his sweet time opening his eyes to return John's gaze. _He looks like he's drunk_ , thought John a little smugly _, I did that to him_. "What's so funny?"

Sherlock just shook his head, staring at John's lips with such intensity that the doctor wondered if Sherlock was trying to attract his mouth back to Sherlock's with the strength of his gaze alone. John chuckled, carding a hand through Sherlock's wild, damp curls. He gave the other man one last, sweet little kiss on his beautiful mouth before he pulled away and sat up in between Sherlock's legs.

"Do you have lube, Sherlock?" John asked.

Sherlock shook his head. John quirked an eyebrow, surprised. "Why not?"

"I don't... do this often. Masturbating in bed, that is. Usually I do it in the shower." Sherlock said quietly, blushing.

John can't help but smile a little at how adorable Sherlock looked then, spread out underneath him on Sherlock's own bed, blushing all the way to his chest, telling John about his masturbation routine and being embarrassed about it. The doctor licked his left palm a few times before taking Sherlock's cock in it unceremoniously.

Sherlock gasped so hard at the contact that he coughed at the end of it, spluttering inelegantly. John suppressed the urge to laugh and ran his right hand gently down Sherlock's torso, making quiet shushing noises. He stroked the hard cock in his hand, moving his hand up and down slowly, wanting to draw it out.

"Do you think of me when you get off, Sherlock?" John murmured. Sherlock nodded, eyes wide as he stared at what was going on between his legs. "All the time?"

Sherlock returned his gaze to John's face and nodded again, chewing on his bottom lip desperately. John reached out with his free hand and pulled the full lip out from between Sherlock's teeth, running his thumb over it a few times. "I want to hear you, baby. Moan for me, will you?"

The sounds Sherlock made after that request had John deciding to sound-record their next time together. He watched Sherlock writhe underneath his hands and decided to just tape everything, visuals included. He was sure he had a video camera somewhere upstairs.

"...ah... ah... ah..." Sherlock moaned, both loudly and quietly, throwing his head back and gasping at the ceiling. John's hand worked leisurely in between his thighs, pulling his foreskin up and down again and again, the dribbling pre-come oozing from his slit made slick, wet sounds as John tugged on him. He tried to stay still like John told him to but it was impossible. Sherlock couldn't stop his hips from moving. Back and forth, left and right, moving along with John's warm, damp palm that was doing wonderful things to his member.

John tsked, shaking his head in disbelief as he watched Sherlock's body move erotically on the bed. "Look at you. Never seen anything more beautiful in my life," John sped up his strokes slightly, causing Sherlock to moan louder. "Have you any idea what I want to do to you, Sherlock? Hmmm?"

Sherlock shook his head desperately, trying to focus more on what John was saying and less on the sensation of delicious friction on his cock that John was providing.

"You won't believe half the things I want to do to you.  Or I should say the things I'm going to do to you, really. Cause you'd let me, won't you, Sherlock? You'd let me do anything to you." John said, voice hypnotic.

Sherlock nodded hard, panting like he was running a marathon. "T..tell me." His voice was barely audible, the usual smooth baritone now sounded like a gasping wheeze.

John chuckled, his strokes steadily increasing in speed. The wet noises from the handjob and Sherlock's loud moaning filled the room but John ignored them. "Tell you what I want to do to you? Alright, if you insist."

The doctor tilted his head to the side as he watched Sherlock's beautiful cock being stroked by his hand. An incredibly arousing sight, to say the least. "I want to do things to your cock, especially. Do you know what sounding is, Sherlock?"

A frantic headshake complete with bouncing curls answered him. John chuckled again.

"Penetrating the urethra," John said simply. Sherlock's eyes widened in both excitement and shock. "It won't hurt. I'll be gentle. You trust me, don't you?"

A firm, curly nod.

"It stretches your urethra so if we do it enough times, I can eventually put my tongue and even my fingers in your cock," John murmured. Sherlock gasped at the mental image. "You've never had a blowjob, have you?" Headshake. "Imagine your cock in my mouth. Imagine my tongue inside your cock, Sherlock."

Sherlock screwed his eyes shut, his face pinched in desperation. Too many sensations, mental and physical, he wasn't going to last. "Johnnnnnn... ooohhhhh..."

"Come, Sherlock. Now." John ordered. And immediately Sherlock came with a loud, "AHHH!!"

His orgasm was explosive, his cock just about erupted like a volcano, jerking multiple times in  John's tight grip. He kept coming and coming, his back arched and his mouth wide open, John using the hot semen to slick his fist as he continued to move it up and down again and again, milking every inch of come from Sherlock's body. The detective's bent thighs shook like an earthquake as he came and came.

John whistled low as he watched Sherlock's unusually long orgasm, feeling smug and impressed. "That's it, baby. Let it alllllll out."

When he finally stopped ejaculating, Sherlock melted back into the bed like he was liquid, still breathing hard. John just sat there, fully clothed and looking more or less unaffected, and watched him get himself back under control. They stared at each other, unblinking.

After a while, John's lips quirked upwards into a soft smile. Slowly, Sherlock's did the same.

A promise. It's all fine.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments and even criticism, good or bad, are much appreciated! 
> 
> Visit (and follow if you're also a Tumblr blogger) my Tumblr http://beautyandtheconsultingdetective.tumblr.com/ for quality Johnlock and BBC Sherlock content!
> 
> Also accepting fic commissions! Details here: http://beautyandtheconsultingdetective.tumblr.com/ficcommissions


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